


Zombieland

by n_nami



Series: 31 Cockles AUs in 31 days [27]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Zombieland AU, apocalypse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Jensen/Misha stories - a new installment is posted every day throughout January 2015.</p><p>Nr. 27: In a world where most of the remaining inhabitants want to eat Misha's brain, he's never been so glad to see a human face again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zombieland

Misha’s on his ass in the middle of the supermarket aisle, which is never good.

He’s desperate, has been for days now as his supplies were running low, and he couldn’t avoid taking the risk and entering this abandoned supermarket. It seemed to be a reasonable distance away from the next city, yet big enough not to have been raided completely already.

He had not counted on being greeted with three and a half zombies munching on what seemed like a relatively fresh meal in the vegetable section.

And so, he finds himself fighting them off with anything he can grab while trying to get to the back door, which he already secured. Rule #22: when in doubt, know your way out. Knowing is half the battle, Misha reminds himself, although with two severely injured but still mobile zombies in the way, it’s going to be a challenge.

The next best thing within Misha’s reach is a packet of pads for women, which he smacks into the left zombie’s face. At least she’s confused for a second, enough for Misha to grab his machete and behead her. The right zombie isn’t as fast as the first one, so Misha had counted on having enough time.

Except that now he’s got a zombie mere inches away from his neck and his blood is pumping too fast. He grunts and tries to loosen the undead guy’s fingers from his torso, but only manages to lose his machete in the attempt.

“Shit,” Misha curses under his breath.

That’s when a voice interrupts Misha’s near death experience. “Watch your head,” it says.

Misha leans back to give whoever it is some room to swing, and with a swish, the zombie drops to his knees in front of him, his head rolling off to the side, trailing blackened blood.

Misha looks down at the corpse, kicks it for good measure, then checks out who has saved him.

“Hi,” the guy says. He seems sour and grumpy, but Misha has rarely been that happy to see another living human being that didn’t want to eat his brain.

“Hi,” he grins. “And thanks for saving my life.”

“Sure thing,” the guy nods, taps his head in a short salute, and turns around to leave just as Misha catches a glimpse of green eyes and plush lips.

“Wait!”

The guy throws a look at Misha over his shoulder. “What?” he replies, flat and tonelessly.

“Are you… Do you have any allies or are you alone?”

“Why would you care and why would I tell you?” the guy sneers.

“Because,” Misha explains. “I’ve been alone for the past three months, ever since... you know. Man, I gotta tell you, I haven’t been as happy to see a human face, ever.”

“So, what, you need some entertainment?”

“No, I need backup. Plus, a friend would be nice.”

Green eyes travel over his body, assessing him, squinting at him. “Where are you from?”

“Boston,” Misha answers.

“Fine, Boston, but I gotta tell you, if you pull a stunt like that one just now again, you’re on your own,” the guy grumbles.

The way he scrunches his nose and acts all untouchable and irritated is kind of cute, Misha finds himself thinking. For the first time in three months, Misha starts wondering about sex. Misses it for the first time since the outbreak.

Because this guy easily kicked his fantasies into gear.

“What’s your name, then?” Misha smiles.

The guy shrugs. “Does it matter these days? As far as I’m concerned, you can call me Dallas, since that’s where I’m from. Enough of the semantics, though, we need to get out of here. What were you here for?”

“Food,” Misha sighs.

“Alright, I think I saw some canned stuff over there earlier--” Dallas gestures to his right. “You pack all you can get into that bag of yours and I’ll see if there’s anything that can be used as a weapon in here.”

Dallas looks at the floor, then, where the package of pads lies. “These yours?” he teases.

“You gotta take what’s right in front of you, right?”

“Wise words, Boston,” Dallas winks, which makes Misha all kinds of hot and cold all at once. “We’ll get back to that, ok?”


End file.
